Chapter Twenty-Three
Over the next few days, Max and I amass more albums for Tyler’s cave: the Pixies’ Doolittle, Joy Division’s Unknown Pleasures.
Max buys an air-tight tub and we carefully prop the records up inside next to a battery-powered record player I found on Craigslist. It makes the cave feel homey, somehow.
I feel kind of bad for not thinking of it before, forgetting that at least a small part of Tyler really is in there underneath the horns and hair when he turns.
I press confirm on my eBay order and send a screenshot of it to Max: two New Order albums and one Talking Heads.
I’m still contemplating stealing one of the New Order records for my own useless collection; before Tyler, I never listened to anything even remotely like them or the Cure or the Pixies, but now every time I go to put music on, even when I’m by myself, my fingers search for them out of instinct.
Max texts back almost immediately.
Max
ICONIC
Max
I call first dibs on all these when we cure Tyler and the cave becomes squirrel palace again
I snort a laugh. You wish, I type back, then shove my phone in my pocket, ignoring the way my chest clenches at the thought of what’ll happen once Tyler is back to normal, that I won’t have any need to talk to Max again.
Because it’ll be a good thing. No more curse, no more Taylors.
Not that I’m actually any closer to breaking the curse – not really – but still.
Around me, the gym is a tornado of noise.
All of Mount Luther’s juniors and seniors have been crammed on to the stands on one side of the vast room, staring down at the basketball court where a small stage lined with ten chairs and an empty podium have been set up.
A half-moon of light blue, black and gold balloons arches over it.
It doesn’t take long to spot Sam waving at me from halfway up the stands, Julian and Elliott sitting beside her. As the last few students trickle in, Mount Luther’s principal, Mrs Banks, takes the stage.
‘Good afternoon, Mount Luther seniors and juniors,’ she says into the microphone, wincing at the sharp shriek of feedback.
She pats the side of her shaved head, and says on a sigh, ‘Welcome to your 2025 prom pep rally. Before we get your prom committee president up here, I’d like to make a few announcements, starting with some thoughts about this year’s senior prank.
Let me be clear: putting oats in the cafeteria’s gluten-free muffins is not only illegal, it’s—’
Sam lets out a loud snort she muffles with the back of her hand. On the other side of her, Julian holds out his phone and chokes on his own laughter as a muted video plays. Sam collapses against his shoulder. When a couple people from the row in front of us turn around, I elbow Sam in the ribs.
‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ she whisper-giggles.
Mrs Banks exits the stage and is replaced by Cassidy. Standing behind the podium in a white crop top and matching skirt, her sleek brown hair spilling over her shoulders, she practically glows, her chipper voice echoing across the gym’s polished floors.
‘Who’s excited for prom?’ she shouts into the microphone.
The crowd around me applauds enthusiastically. Even Sam and Julian look up long enough to let out matching whoops.
‘After two months of planning, our Night on the Potomac is finally happening next Saturday! As a reminder, you have until Wednesday to get your tickets, and today to turn in applications for non-Mount Luther students.’ She levels a glare at Mrs Banks before clearing her throat. ‘Today, we’ll be—’
My phone buzzes again. I slide it out of my pocket to catch the screen.
Max
Ok this one could not be more on brand
Above the text is a link to a plastic, neon-green tablecloth that’s covered in rainbow-coloured cartoon parrots.
Max has been looking at options all morning for the gala.
Each one he sends me is increasingly unhinged, this one somehow more ridiculous than the tablecloth peppered with leprechauns jumping out of pots of gold, and the one with the green dinosaurs that was clearly designed for a kids’ birthday party.
I chew the inside of my mouth as I type my reply.
Indie
Too on the nose
Max
TOO on the nose?!
Max
Indie COME ON
Max
First I’m accused of being random and now I’ve picked a tablecloth that’s too perfect?
Max
WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?
A swell of music jolts me from my spot on the hard, wooden riser. The varsity cheerleading team has filled the floor in front of the stage, tossing its smallest members in the air as though they’re made of paper. Cassidy stands behind the podium, nodding along to the pounding beat.
Even though Sam still has her head bent over Julian’s phone, I tuck my cell between my legs as I write back to Max.
Indie
What does Rick think?
Indie
I’m assuming all this requires his approval
Max
Oh obviously
Max
He thinks the parrots are bold yet tasteful
Max
Like any sane person would
Indie
God forbid I disagree with Rick
The song booming from the gym speakers changes. The cheerleaders shuffle into two parallel lines, creating a walkway that leads from one of the sets of double doors to the stage.
‘And now, your senior prom candidates,’ Cassidy shouts.
Thirty or so sets of blue and gold pom-poms lift in the air, glittering under the lighting.
Max
What if I got this one??? Do you think Tyler would be offended?
He’s sent a picture of a white plastic tablecloth with a blond Chihuahua in a tiny giraffe costume, but all I can see is the name in his text.
Tyler. Ever since our recon mission at Breakneck, Max and I have barely talked about him, our conversations centring around normal stuff instead, like music, the gala, Max’s incredulity over my extensive knowledge of romantic comedies.
He has a particular talent for making memes about Rick that set me laughing so hard, my muscles actually spasm.
It feels like friendship to me – Just friendship? a vicious voice at the back of my head whispers – which is the whole point, I know, but I can’t lose sight of the actual point, which is that I have to break this stupid freaking curse.
Indie
Speaking of, what’s our next move with Tyler?
Max
Yeeaaaaaaaaah that’s a good q
I need to focus on the plan, and find a way to get that spell book.
I’ve been agonising over how to invite myself to Max’s house, even contemplating how I could credibly end up on his street, where I knock on his front door, looking for help and just, whoa!
Max, this is your house? OMG, what a freakish coincidence!
Can I come in and snoop around your dad’s stuff?
It’s embarrassing.
Clasping my phone tightly between my knees, I watch the prom king candidates take the stage.
Finally, Cassidy gets to the girls, and I know I should’ve expected that Avery would make sure she goes first, but when she steps out on the gym floor with Shane Bartley’s arm looped through hers, my breath catches.
She beams up at the crowd and leans into Shane, whose face is split in his own cocky smile.
I wince against the sting that prickles up my arms, seeing how comfortable Avery looks with him, knowing she’d never look that comfortable with me.
It’s almost laughable, the thought of me on that stage with her as Cassidy tells the audience with a straight face that Avery’s go-to dance song is ‘Party Rock Anthem’.
She and Shane look so at ease, two puzzle pieces slotting perfectly into each other as Shane whispers something in Avery’s ear and she tips her head back and laughs.
Everything about them is so effortless. So natural.
I bite my tongue against the jealousy swirling inside me.
I’ve managed to force Avery to the back of my head over the last couple weeks, even when we see each other in class, but now that she’s here, literally centre stage, with Shane on her arm, all the anger I’ve been burying rises to my skin, a worm pushing its way to the surface of the earth.
Avery and Shane Bartley.
Shane Bartley, who reduced his garage to a burnt-out husk after someone dared him to light an entire box of bottle rockets at once.
Shane freaking Bartley, who—
My phone buzzes again with another text from Max. I let out a long breath, look down at the screen, and smile.
Max
Wanna come over for Chinese food tonight and we can discuss?
‘Huh,’ I say to myself.
That works too.